


A Matter of Time

by arkemisia



Series: GTA V One-Shots [2]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arkemisia/pseuds/arkemisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael and Amanda get married and Trevor is the best man. Shenanigans ensue. (One-shot. Rated for Language)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Time

Michael swayed slightly on his feet, outside a church of all places. In a tuxedo no less. Fuck, he was getting married. Shit. Fuck. Damn. He tried to steady his breathing, and willed his stomach to settle. He wasn't sure if the churning in his gut was nervousness or a lingering effect from the long night before. He swallowed back a particularly strong bubble rising in his throat and widened his stance. Definitely a combination of both, he concluded, as he tried to blink away the heavy fog from his eyes.

 

A hand clapping him on the back almost toppled him over. "Woah there, cupcake," Trevor said, taking a hold of his wobbly friend's arm.

 

"Fuck you, asshole," Michael grumbled without much venom. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, hoping he could rub away the ache. "This is all your fault."

 

"Hey, what are we talking about here? Because if it's the whole wedding thing I'm pretty sure that's your fault. Or Amanda's. Depending on how we want to look at the little pickle you're in," Trevor asked with far too much energy for the night they'd had before.

 

"Not that, T," Michael said with a sigh. "I am never drinking with you again."

 

"Oh, I highly doubt that statement will last, Mikey boy," Trevor laughed.

 

"And I am not in a pickle," Michael continued.

 

"Huh, coulda fooled me. No idea where I got that impression," Trevor exclaimed, rocking back and forth on his heels. Michael only now realized how ridiculous the man looked in a suit. His unruly hair was slicked back haphazardly, and his beard had been trimmed to stubble. It was the closest to clean shaven Michael had ever seen him. "Oh, no wait, I know! The part where you only asked your girl to marry you after you knocked her up." The top button of Trevor's shirt was undone and his bow tie hung askew and off center.

 

"Hey, shut the fuck up. Some best man you are," Michael scolded as he grabbed Trevor's collar and fastened the top button, finally covering the 'cut here' tattoo, despite Trevor's gagging protestations. "I was gonna marry her anyway," Michael retorted defensively, straightening out Trevor's bow tie.

 

"Sure you were, sugar," Trevor replied and Michael slapped him upside the head halfheartedly. Oddly enough, his own head was feeling slightly better. Michael stuck a warning finger in Trevor's face.

 

"You better be good," he said, both stern and nervous at the same time. Trevor held up his hands and smiled. Michael was not reassured. "I am fucking serious, T. Her parents and brothers are in there and I'm in deep enough shit as it is."

 

"Oh, sure. I'll be on my best behavior. I wouldn't want to make a bad impression and have it reflect poorly upon you, my brother. It's not like you met their daughter in a strip club and took her home without knowing her real name. Or like you bought the rock on her finger with money ironically obtained by robbing a jeweler's. Or that you routinely got high as kites together and f-"

 

"O-Kay, that's enough, buddy, I get it," Michael cut him off.  "And for the record we don't do that shit anymore," he said, straightening out his own jacket. “The crack,” he added.

 

"No shit?"

 

"You crazy mother fucker think I'm gonna let her smoke crack when she's pregnant with my baby? No fucking way," Michael exclaimed.

 

"Huh," Trevor muttered. “Well that's no fun.” Michael ignored him and looked at his watch before looking back at to Trevor. His eyes were wide and his jaw was set in a look of barely controlled panic. "Time to face the music?"

 

"Time to face the music," Michael echoed weakly. He went to open the door of the church but Trevor grabbed his elbow.

 

"You don't have to, you know," he said quietly. Michael stared back at him. "We could disappear. It's not like we haven't done that before," Trevor added with a shrug and a smirk. Michael searched his face before breaking out into an incredulous smile himself and a stifled, gasping chuckle. He shoved his partner and best friend's shoulder playfully.

 

"You fucker, had me goin' there for a minute!" Michael laughed and Trevor paused before joining in. He draped his arm around the groom's shoulder and shook him, patting him on the chest and laughing boisterously.

 

"You serious son of a bitch, of course I did," Trevor roared and led Michael to the door. "Let's get you hitched!" Trevor pulled open the door to the church and let go of Michael, going in ahead.

 

Only about a small crowd occupied the pews in the church. Everyone turned to look as Trevor entered first, and Michael heard him snarl. Granted: it was the quietest snarl he’d ever heard his friend utter. Amanda's mother was in the front left row, heading the bride's side of the audience. She was also one of the few people in the church other than the pastor and the old lady on the keyboard with grey hair. Michael recognized Amanda's brothers by their dark hair and sharp features reminiscent of the bride, pinched into vaguely displeased expressions poorly disguised as neutral. They flinched as Trevor sauntered passed them and Michael made a mental note to apologize to them again for Trevor's antics the night before.

 

A couple of Amanda's girl friends from work sat a couple rows behind her family. One of Amanda's friends from childhood sat in the pews as well; they hadn't been sure she'd be able to make it on such short notice, as she now lived out of town. She smiled at him though, and he took that as a sign she was no longer upset at being excluded from the bridal party.

 

Significantly fewer guests occupied the his side of the church. He had no family he'd cared to invite. One of Amanda and his neighbors, Ted, a big fellow with a barrel of a chest with prematurely thinning hair, sat with his wife and small daughter. Michael had first met Ted a little over two years ago when he acquired the trailer home in Blue Path trailer park. The young construction worker had brought over a 6 pack of beer and his then-pregnant wife had brought a fruit cake as a form of introduction. A nice couple. One of the few "normal" couples he and Amanda knew.

 

And then there sat the two "work associates" of Michael's other than Trevor at the wedding: the frail Lester, and the rambunctious Chase. Lester wore a surgical mask, no doubt to keep himself from inhaling germs, not spreading them. Chase had some girl Michael didn't recognize with him. Another day another fling.

 

Trevor got to the end of the aisle turned sharply, almost comically in its precision, to move in front of the pews to a spot just before the step up to the elevated dais. Michael just then realized Trevor was wearing his work boots and groaned inwardly. Michael took a step up to stop on the elevated floor in front of the altar, and turned to face the rest of the church. He knew they would be looking at him of course; he was one of the two getting married after all! But it didn't prevent his mouth from going dry when he had to look at them all staring.

 

The keyboardist transitioned songs with a slow flourish and the doors to the outside opened again. A woman with peroxide blonde hair in a simple up-do walked down the aisle. Trevor grinned beside him. Amanda's best friend, Susan, who just so happened to also be one of her coworkers. A quick glance to his left and Michael confirmed his suspicion that his best man was mentally undressing the maid of honor, as she walked to her place on the other side of the front. Michael knew the look on Trevor's face, but he hoped the guest didn't. Hopefully they wouldn't be able to distinguish between the different types of crazy Trevor often displayed. Judging from the wrinkling in her nose and the subtle pursing of her lips, Susan had an idea of what was going on herself. She held her chin up high and made it to her spot, mirroring Trevor's and ignoring him completely.

 

Next came a dark haired little girl in a white sun-dress, taking measured steps in her white sandals. She carefully picked each petal out of her little bucket and dropped it to the floor. Michael stared, transfixed, but she remained completely focused on her task. When she reached the end of the aisle, she clutched the empty bucket to her chest and ran around the pews in an abrupt change of pace to crawl into the lap of one of Amanda's brothers. Michael realized he'd been staring as he shifted his gaze to her father, who gave a tentative smile, as he situated the girl in his lap.

 

It wasn't until everyone turned around that Michael realized Amanda had appeared in the doorway, her hand in her father's arm. Michael swayed on his feet again. He always thought she was beautiful: in sweats, or on the stage, or in the bedroom. So why couldn't he breathe?

 

Her long dark hair was pinned up in some sort of twist, and a lily poked out from behind her right ear. A fine pearl necklace graced her slender neck; Michael smiled slightly looking at that, remembering exactly where he'd purchased it and where he'd picked up the money for it. Her eyelids glittered a silvery white with every blink, and her fire engine red cream lipstick matched the brilliant red roses she carried in front of her.

 

"Breathe, bro," Trevor whispered from Michael's left and Michael managed out a strangled chuckle. It was as close to an exhale as he could muster. His head was swimming, probably because he had apparently forgotten just how to breathe. All the while he silently laughed and cursed at himself for acting like an idiot.

 

Amanda and her father reached end of the aisle and it began. The pastor spread his arms wide, and the music stopped.

 

"A wedding is the celebration of the miracle of love,” the pastor addressed the congregation. “Michael and Amanda, today, in the presence of God, we celebrate this miracle in your lives," the pastor said and then bowed his head, to focus on Amanda and her father. "Who brings this bride to be married today?"

 

"I, her father, on behalf of her family," her father replied, his voice hollow and loud with forced volume. The pastor motioned an open palm to him, and Amanda's father turned to her and held her in a brief, stiff embrace, before going to his seat in the front row, his face stoic. Freed from her father's arm, Amanda ascended the step to her place next to Michael. Susan deftly accepted the bouquet of red roses from Amanda. Michael smiled at his bride, and she at him, and they angled to face the pastor.

 

He knew he was supposed to be paying attention, looking at the pastor, but he had to keep trying to catch a glimpse of Amanda out of the corner of his eye. He'd seen her in dresses before, and more different kinds of lingerie than he'd bothered to count, but he'd never seen her in a dress so simple yet so elegant, or so demure. The belted empire waist of the white, scoop neck gown concealed any small bump that would have betrayed her. A sigh of relief. He wasn't sure she would be able to hide her growing belly, even though they'd set the date as soon as they'd learned she was expecting. The pastor's sonorous voice reminded Michael he wasn't alone and probably everyone could tell he wasn't paying attention.

 

"Learning to love each other and to live together in harmony is one of the greatest challenges of marriage. Marriage is not to be entered into lightly, and we are to hold it in high honor at all times," the pastor remarked. Amanda smiled, her recently whitened teeth bright against her red lipstick. "Michael and Amanda, may the promises you make this day live always in your hearts and in your home so that all which you share now deepen and grow through the years, leading you through a lifetime of happiness," the pastor paused and Michael licked his lips. How the fuck had they gotten so dry?

 

"Please join, hands and look into each others eyes," the pastor instructed, and they complied. Michael squeezed her hands and Amanda's shoulders hunched up as she made what sounded like a cross between a strangled laugh and a sob.

 

"Do you, Michael," the pastor started and Michael shifted his feet, widening his stance. Trevor almost guffawed next to him then and there, but managed to restrain himself, as his friend braced himself.  "Take this woman, to live together in marriage; will you love her, comfort her, honor her and keep her, in health and in sickness, in prosperity and in adversity; and forsaking all others, be faithful to her, so long as you shall live?"

 

Michael opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Amanda's face immediately froze, her eyes suddenly wide and her lips thinned. Usually she was about to hit something when she did that. He cleared his throat and tried again: "I do." Michael pulled his lips back in an exaggerated smile and gave her hands a shake and another squeeze nervously. She slowly relaxed, her lips returning to a small, slightly terrified and smile.

 

"Do you, Amanda, take this man," the pastor said and Michael squeezed her hands even more with a slight waggling of his eyebrows. She squeezed back with a teasingly scolding face as the pastor continued: "to live together in marriage; will you love him, comfort him, honor him and keep him, in health and in sickness, in prosperity and in adversity; and forsaking all others, be faithful to him, so long as you shall live?"

 

Michael felt ridiculous. His cheeks hurt from smiling, but he didn't want to stop and he could feel his heartbeat in his eardrums. "I do," she said easier than he.

 

"May I have the rings please?" the pastor looked to Trevor, who seemed startled and did a little jig.

 

"Oh, right, right, the rings," he said. He reached into one pocket, and then the other. Michael turned slowly to stare at Trevor, trying to keep his face composed. Amanda attempted to melt the best man on the spot with her glare.

 

"T," Michael breathed out of the side of his mouth. Trevor reached in his right coat pocket, giggling almost maniacally. "Tee," Michael whispered again, drawing it out. Trevor reached into his other coat pocket and whipped out a small paper packet triumphantly.

 

"Ahha!" he exclaimed and unwrapped it quickly. Michael held his breath again. If it was drugs he was going to kill Trevor, right then, right there, in the church, in front of the family he was trying to marry into. Instead two white gold bands dropped out of the paper and into the pastor's waiting palm.

 

The pastor didn't seem as flustered as Michael felt and instead simply held up the rings, gazing heavenwards, or rather, into the ceiling. "These rings are symbols of eternity and the unbroken circle of love. Love freely given has no beginning and no end. Today you have chosen to exchange rings, as a sign of your love for each other, and as a seal of the promises you make this day. We ask that God bless these rings, and this union of souls." He held one ring in his left palm and held up the other, setting his gaze intently upon Michael

 

"Michael, as you place this precious ring on Amanda's finger, repeat after me," he instructed and handed Michael the ring. He could tell exactly how many karats it was just by feeling it drop into the palm of his hand. They'd opted for simple, yet quality, matching gold wedding bands. Anyway, he'd gotten her quite the engagement ring, if he did say so himself.

 

The pastor began reciting the vows, and Michael snapped to attention. The pastor paused with each line to let Michael repeat it back.

 

"Just as this ring encircles your finger,"

"So does my love encircle your heart."

"May this ring forever be a symbol,"

"of my growing love for you."

"With this ring, I thee wed."

 

Michael slid the white golden band on Amanda's left hand with the last line and let out a big sigh. She laughed silently, not wanting to let go of his hand. But the pastor held up the second ring, and she had to relinquish her grip on Michael's hands to take it.

 

"Amanda, as you place this precious ring on Michael's finger, repeat after me:"

 

"Just as this ring encircles your finger..."

"So does my love encircle your heart."

"May this ring forever be a symbol."

"of my growing love for you."

"With this ring, I thee wed."

 

Michael's breath caught as she struggled to move the band over his slightly swollen knuckle. Michael made a mental note to punch Trevor again for last night. Preferably with his right hand this time. Amanda laughed nervously as she wriggled the ring and finally slipped it all the way on his finger. He grabbed her hands with both of his as she returned her gaze to his.

 

"You have declared before all of us that you will live together in marriage," the pastor proclaimed. "By the authority vested in me by the state of North Yankton, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Family and loved ones, it is with great pleasure that I now introduce to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Townley. You may now kiss the bride."

 

Michael practically swooped down to engulf his new bride in a kiss. He kept his hands on her hips as she wrapped hers around his neck. But he had to break away when Trevor growled provocatively behind him. Michael laughed, but Amanda looked less than pleased. Michael shook his head and he and Amanda turned towards the standing guests, hand in hand. With another squeeze of his hand, a kiss her on the cheek, Amanda started smiling again. Susan handed her back the bridal bouquet, and the newly weds were off, striding down the aisle, Amanda almost skipping to keep up with Michael's brisk, longer legged pace. Trevor and Susan came together at the front of the church, and she put her arm in the crook of his with a well restrained look of distaste. They followed the couple out the doors, the recessional music fading as they exited. Susan tried to take back her arm as soon as they'd gone through the door, but Trevor flexed his arm and uttered a low, amorous growl. She managed to snatch her arm away with a tsk as they followed the newly weds to the bed and breakfast across the street.

 

The main banquet hall stood empty. A few circular tables draped in white table cloths dotted one end of the hall and a makeshift bar punctuated the other side of the room. Susan continued past the banquet hall and up the stairs. Trevor followed her, eying the bar while he could and wondering vaguely if she knew where she was going. She knocked on a big wooden door at the far end of the hall and Trevor heard Michael tell her to come in. She disappeared through the door and Trevor followed.

 

The couple sat on a white love seat in the bridal suite, Amanda still clutching the bouquet of red roses and Michael stretching his arm around her as the photographer took pictures.

 

"And hold it," the photographer instructed. He looked younger than any of them and exuded sheer energy as he snapped a picture. He looked above the camera at the couple, closing one eye and analyzing. "Could you do that thing you were doing when I came in?" he asked and Michael coughed into his hand. "Kind of nuzzling her neck or - come on, you have no excuse to be shy. We know you've done worse," the photographer goaded standing up and stretching.

 

"Hey!" Michael protested indignantly. The photographer shifted his attention to Trevor and Susan.

 

"Okay, we'll let you think about it for a minute, now that the rest of the party is here," the photographer conceded as Michael glared. Amanda shook her head and put a hand to her forehead, grinning. The younger man turned to Susan and Trevor and brought up the camera.

 

"Ohhh FUCK no," Trevor said and immediately dropped and rolled backwards, slamming the door shut behind him. He could hear Michael cracking up on the other side and Amanda saying something about being fine with Trevor not in the pictures anyway. Trevor got up to his feet, listening to the photographer quickly try and recover, spouting nonsensical instructions. Trevor turned away and started back downstairs. There was a bar that needed his approval as best man.

 

He thundered down the stairs and bum rushed the bar. The bar tender threw himself backwards, bracing himself against the wall as Trevor slammed into the rolling counter, making the bottles and glasses clink and wobble dangerously.

 

"Barkeep!" Trevor shouted, "A drink!"

 

"What'll you have?" the bartender stuttered, moving back to his space behind the counter.

 

"Hm, beer, no! Something stronger. Rum? No, no, had that last night, vodka! Yes, vodka and a splash of cranberry. Oh! And gimme some of that whiskey I know you have; gotta taste test it for the groom," Trevor instructed. The bartender hastily complied, setting the filled highball glass and the tumbler glass in front of the hovering groomsman. Trevor swiped up the drinks and brought the whiskey to his nose. He crinkled his nose and quickly downed the malted whiskey. The bartender looked on, both astonished and aghast, as Trevor coughed and sputtered, putting the tumbler back down. "Fucking hell, that shit is nasty!" he proclaimed to the bartender's horror. "Mike'll love it!" Trevor added and the bartender just stood still, downright confused. Trevor then drank half the highball, slamming it back down on the counter, exclaiming "Jesus fucking Christ, how am I supposed to drink this with all the damn ice in the way? You want me to get a brain freeze, fucker?" But he downed the rest anyway and shoved the glass back at the bartender.

 

"Another one! This time don't give me none of that shit ice," he ordered, and watched as the bartender poured the vodka. "That's it, keep going, don't stop!" he said and finally just reached over, "Give me that!" He grabbed the bottle and the glass and filled it almost to the brim. He brought it up to his face and hummed. "Oops," he said, and walked away with the bottle and the glass. The bartender just slowly ducked behind the counter as Trevor went out back to the garden. He plopped down on a park bench and took a hearty gulp from the glass. He hissed through his teeth as he settled back.

 

Mikey was married. Mikey Michael. His partner in crime, his smoking and drinking buddy, his wing-man, his best friend. His other half. Was married.

 

Music started behind him and more and more voices started talking from inside. The guests had arrived at the reception.

 

Mikey promised he wouldn't change. Not much at least. He'd promised. But how could he not change? How could they keep going on the way they did? He'd already bought that trailer home for her. He was married now and even had a baby on the way, the stupid fuck. Trevor took another gulp of the vodka. Michael was the dumbest smart person Trevor knew. Or he was lying. Or both. This called for another swig as soon as Trevor had finished swallowing the last. And maybe a couple more. The familiar numbness set in his face and extremities and the whole world started buzzing.

 

Now they would have a harder time skipping town. They'd have to be more selective in their targets. What about their hopes, their dreams of the big one? Trevor brought the glass up to his lips only to discover it was empty. He threw it aside and it landed with a crash, shattering into a thousand pieces. He started on the bottle.

 

He heard the sound of a door, or a window creaking open.

 

"The fuck you doin' down there, T?" Michael called from above. Trevor turned this way and that to try and spy his partner. He eventually just leaned back, staring almost straight up at Michael leaning out the window on the second floor. "You better not be breaking shit, you cock sucker," Michael warned playfully.

 

"Hey! Best behavior down here!" Trevor retorted, flailing his arms out widen and spilling some of the vodka in the process. "Fuck," he muttered, licking his sleeve where the vodka had splattered on him. Trevor could hear Amanda's voice from inside the building and Michael shook his head before retreating back inside.

 

Trevor stayed on the bench. It was a good bench, even if it did feel a tad unstable.

 

He heard some clapping and cheering behind him over the music. The happy couple must have made their appearance.

 

He'd come long before Amanda. Well, maybe just a year or two. Or four. What was time anyway? But long enough. Michael would keep his promise. Trevor wouldn't settle for anything else.

 

Trevor stood from the bench, holding the half emptied bottle of vodka and pushed open the doors to the main banquet hall to see everyone seated at the pristine tables. Michael and Amanda sat alone at their own table, while the other tables surrounded them. They all appeared to have just begun eating, but most paused when they noticed Trevor enter. Michael looked like he was about to get up so Trevor patted the air.

 

"No, no, no," Trevor cooed, "sit, siiiiit," he said, weaving between the tables. "Whoopsies," he breathed as he stumbled and took a dive, practically landing on Susan's lap. She shoved him back and he wobbled on towards the couple. "Mikey! Mikey and Mandy!" he called. "Mandy and Mikey!" He made it to their table and sloshed the bottle of vodka around in the air. "Ain't I supposed to give some sort of speech or something?"

 

"It's quite alright if you don't, Trevor," Amanda said quickly from where she sat. Michael just laughed, sitting next to her, as Trevor bumped against their table. Michael held a cigar in one hand and a mostly empty tumbler in the other. The easy smile and the very small amount of amber liquid left in his glass informed T his friend had found the whiskey.

 

"Abahbahbahbah!" was Trevor's only response. Amanda jolted back a bit, blinking in surprise, while Michael just snorted into his whiskey, bursting into laughter. "Attention! Atten-shun!" Trevor shouted, flailing in the air, and succeeding in garnering the attention of everyone in the room. Although he already had done a decent job of that just walking in the room. Chase let out a small whoop while Lester just held his head in his hands.

 

"For those of you that don't know me," Trevor started, "I am Trevor. I also go by Trev, T, and Sexy Beast. And I," he declared proudly, "am Michael's best-man. Emphasis on the best, best man, best friend, best dancer, best shot, best wing-man, obviously, since he's the one getting married."

 

"Anyway, uh, I didn't exactly prepare a speech or something," he said, and slumped down to the floor in front of the newly weds' table to sit. His legs splayed out in front of him as he got comfortable. "I've known Mikey for, uh, what is it eight-ten years?"  
  
"I think it's more like five, bro," Michael corrected, chuckling.

 

"Five? Fuck, well, doesn't matter. I forgot where I was going with it anyway. Long story short, I saw him first," Trevor yelled, shaking his vodka bottle in the air in Amanda's general direction behind him. A couple other laughs punctuated the relative quiet, joining Michael's stilted laughter. "But the moment I saw Michael gazing helplessly at Mandy shaking it," Trevor said, wiggling emphatically, "I knew this was it. Love at first fuckin' sight, or some shit like that." Michael coughed quietly behind him, trying to take another sip and failing as he'd burst into a grin before managing to actually take a drink. He shrugged at Amanda helplessly and she glared right back.

 

"We've had a lot of good times, Mikey and me, and some pretty fucking insane times too, and Amanda, the little sweetheart over here, puts up pretty damn well with all of it."

 

"Yea, and she puts up with me hanging out with your crazy ass," Michael said, nudging Trevor in the back with his shoe. Michael grinned like mad and every now and then a chuckle would still escape him, and his chain of laughter would continue.

 

"Hey, I can't help it if my ass is crazy good looking," Trevor retorted, making a grab for Michael's leg. He missed and batted the leg of the table instead, causing the dinnerware to clang and shake dangerously. Amanda yelped and tried to prevent her champagne glass from falling over, but some of it spilled over the table and onto the back of Trevor's neck. "Oh, party foul! We're cutting you off!" he exclaimed, jumping a little from where he sat on the floor, before wiping the back of his neck. "Hey, wait, what are you-?"

 

"It's sparkling grape juice, you ass," she retorted even before Trevor could finish formulating his sentence. Michael had to put his cigar in the ash tray and his head on the table, reduced to giggling. "Are you done?" she asked, with just a little bite in the question. Trevor turned to her, his hand over his heart, doing his best to look hurt.

 

"My darling, you wound me," he said, setting down the vodka. "Here I am, trying to tell everybody what an amazing couple you two are; how even though he was my best friend first, I am willing to share him with you, because you two're fucking adorable and perfect for each other, and you just want me to go away?" he asked, his loud voice increasing I'm volume even more as he crawled towards her.

 

"Oh no," she cried out and put a foot out in front of her, catching him on the shoulder to keep him back. He growled and went to grab off her white heeled shoe but she jerked her foot back with a squeal.

 

"Hey, hey, hey," Michael called testily, getting up from his chair and apparently having found a cure for his giggles.

 

"Oh, Mikey! I haven't forgotten about you!" Trevor said and launched himself at the groom, encircling his knees in a bear hug.

 

"Fuck, shit, ack, oh Jesus," Michael sputtered as Trevor pulled him to the ground; he managed to hand off his mostly empty glass of whiskey to Amanda. Chase, Ted and a couple of others laughed heartily as Michael struggled to get free from his best man's grasp. "Oh don't mind me!" Michael yelled. "I'm fine, perfectly fine. Not in trouble at all," he added sharply as he writhed this way and that while Trevor inched his way up Michael's legs. "Oh Jesus," he exclaimed and sat up immediately, focusing on pushing Trevor's face as far away as possible after he got too close to Michael's crotch.

 

"Trevor, stop it!" Amanda said. She'd gotten up at some point and backed away. Chase and Ted moved in.

 

"It's never a night out with these guys without a fight," Ted remarked evenly.

 

"Are they fighting or making out, I'm never quite sure," Chase replied as he reached for Michael and Ted grabbed Trevor.

 

"Okay, break it up," the burly construction worker said. He managed to get Trevor in an arm lock, with Ted's arms coming up under Trevor's armpits. He tried to back up and take Trevor with him but Michael started protesting.

 

"Woah, hold up! He's got my pants," Michael yelled, causing Chase and Ted to pause. Sure enough, Trevor had a good grip on Michael's pockets. "I swear to God, T, if you pants me at my own damn wedding I will murder you."

 

"C'mon, T," Chase said and Trevor shook his head.

 

"Nope, never letting go. He's mine," Trevor said, his voice partially muffled through the fabric of Michael's pants.

 

"Oh for fuck's sake," Michael cried, laughing.

 

"I'm not letting you go anywhere, Mikey!"

 

"I'm not going anywhere anyway, T! Come on," Michael implored. He glanced over at Amanda who had one hand on her hip and held his glass in the other. He smiled sheepishly.

 

"Promise?" Trevor replied.

 

"I promise, now would you please get your hands out of my pockets?" Michael hastily agreed and Trevor relinquished his grip. Ted pulled him back up to his feet and Chase let got of Michael, letting him get up on his own. Michael pulled up and straightened out his pants before brushed himself off. Trevor stooped and picked up his bottle of vodka.

 

"And in conclusion: I love 'em!" he proclaimed loudly. Michael moved to Amanda who still appeared less than pleased. "Every body fuckin' drink!"

 

"Fuckin' a right," Michael said taking his drink with his right hand and putting his left around Amanda's waist. His new bride continued to stare at him, her red painted lips pursed in a dangerous pout. He picked her flute of sparkling grape juice and held it up to her, pulling her closer to him. She glanced at it, before returning her icy glare to him, having to angle her chin so she didn’t bump face first into his chest. He just held his grin, holding her to him. Eventually she relented and swiped the glass from him. They raised their glasses to the best man, who did the same, and then they touched their glasses briefly together before drinking. The scattered clinking of glasses sounded all around as the guests surprisingly followed suit. Trevor watched the couple, completely absorbed in each other, as he drank from his bottle. Michael leaned over to whisper something to Amanda, or to kiss her neck, but from his angle Trevor couldn't quite tell which. Amanda smiled but pushed Michael away weakly.

 

She noticed Trevor's stare and held it, unwavering and inscrutable, her face softening as she stood still in Michael's arms.

 

He didn't hear Chase approach. "T, let's go sit down. The food is fucking delicious," he said, prodding Trevor's elbow. Trevor yanked himself clear of his fellow thief and took a few steps back.

 

"I don't want no stinking food," he muttered. Michael noticed him again, as if seeing him for the first time that night, all previous shenanigans forgotten. "I don't..."

 

"Hey c'mon, T," Michael said cheerfully. Trevor turned around, bumping into another table. He didn't even bother to look at who sat there. "Trevor," Michael called after him, his voice less lively, but Trevor bounced from one obstacle to another until he made it out through the garden doors.

 

"I need some fucking air," Trevor yelled back and the doors closed behind him. His shoes crunched on the shards of the glass he'd thrown before as he grabbed the back of the bench to steady himself. His face was numb and his whole world was spinning, no doubt due to the vodka, so why were his eyes stinging?

 

He grunted and growled, before shoving the bench aside with a roar and half-walking, half-crawling off. He needed a pick me up and he sure as hell wasn't going to find it here.


End file.
